


Afterparty

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Established Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Sorry,” he says again, “I’m just sweatin’ like a pig. Don’t know how you manage to stay lookin’ so put-together—”</i>
</p>
<p><i>But when Rhett turns to look at Link,</i> put together <i>is the furthest description from his mind.</i></p>
<p>After the Shorty Awards, Rhett seeks some relief from the hot lights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterparty

They’re barely offstage before Rhett’s tugging off his jacket, sweat already soaked into the collar, starting to drip down his temples. With nimble fingers, he swipes Link’s pocket square, ignoring Link’s squawk of indignation at the theft. He mops his brow with the smooth cloth, grimacing as it comes away damp, perspiration staining it darker in splotches.

“Sorry, brother,” he mutters, dabbing the sides of his nose and running it down his neck, past the open collar of his shirt. They’ve got drinks with Hannah and at least one afterparty to go to and he’s not going to be able to go back to the hotel to change or even freshen up, so he has to be as thorough as possible. He can already tell the pocket square is not going to be up to the task.

There’s nobody around them right now—Mamrie and Flula are still on stage, and Casey’s gone back out into the audience to find his wife—so Rhett doesn’t feel particularly self-conscious about tugging his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Then, considering, he decides to go all-in, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off his shoulders, leaving him in nothing but his thin black undershirt. The rush of cool air on his now-bare limbs is a blessing, and he tips his head back, groaning low in appreciation. “Sorry,” he says again, “I’m just sweatin’ like a pig. Don’t know how you manage to stay lookin’ so put-together—”

But when Rhett turns to look at Link, _put together_ is the furthest description from his mind. Link’s eyes are dark and glassy, heavy-lidded as he looks Rhett over with unabashed approval. He’s got a flush riding high on his cheeks, and Rhett can see sweat starting to collect on his upper lip, making the dip of his cupid’s bow shine even in the low backstage lights. His bottom lip is sucked into his mouth, and Rhett knows from experience how it’ll ache when Link releases it, sharp little teeth bringing the blood to the surface, staining the plump flesh red like berries, like wine.

Glancing around, making sure they’re still alone, Rhett runs his thumb over Link’s mouth, pressing the tip between his lips until Link opens with a gasp, bottom lip dark and bruised, saliva-slippery. He can feel sweat beginning to prickle again at his hairline, just this soft, small touch enough to get him worked up, warm and wanting. 

What they’re doing is pushing things far enough though, so Rhett doesn’t lean in like he wants to, doesn’t take that sweet bottom lip between his own and bite down on it, doesn’t soothe the soreness with a stroke of his tongue. Instead, he cups Link’s jaw, drawing his face up so they’re looking eye to eye, Link’s cheek stubble-rough beneath his palm, and he continues to trace the contour of Link’s warm, inviting mouth. It’s a gesture that can be pulled away from at the first sound of footsteps; a risk, but a small one, considering everything that Link’s gaze makes Rhett want to do. Link looks so good in his suit, the grey making his blue eyes seem brighter, the trim lines and skinny lapels complementing his slim figure beautifully. Rhett wants nothing more than to pull it off him, but now is not the time and this is certainly not the place.

“See somethin’ you like, son?” Rhett means it to be a tease, but his voice comes out in a husky whisper, and the gust of breath that Link expels around his hand sends a shiver down his spine.

Link just stares for a long moment, unmoving, exhaling wetly against Rhett’s thumb, before slowly bringing up a hand and grasping Rhett’s wrist, encircling it with long, capable fingers that Rhett dreams about more often than he’d like to admit. Holding it tight, keeping Rhett motionless, he tips his head until his lips are pressed against Rhett’s palm. The kiss alone, all soft, sweet pressure, is nearly enough to undo Rhett.

The shock that is the wet tip of Link’s tongue tracing circles along Rhett’s palm, Link’s bright blue gaze never wavering as he swirls and licks, the barest scrape of sharp teeth against the sensitive flesh, have Rhett’s knees buckling, blood rushing in his ears, dizzying him, throwing him off balance.

Link’s got both hands on his hips before Rhett even realizes he’s moved at all, Rhett’s sticky palm hanging uselessly at his side as Link holds him up with a bruising grip. It’s barely a second before he’s steady again, until his heartbeat settles to a dull roar in his ears, most of the blood rushing elsewhere, tightening his already-tight slacks.

Link quirks a smile, maintaining his iron grip on Rhett’s hips, using it as leverage to push himself onto his toes. “Got previous engagements it’d be rude to miss,” he whispers, mouth hovering next to Rhett’s ear, and _damn him_. Rhett can hear the glee in his voice, knows the thrill of teasing Rhett all night, through drinks and parties, of driving him crazy, is more appealing to him than skipping out on everything and going back to the hotel now. “Why don’t you get yourself lookin’ decent again and I’ll show you later how much I liked what I saw.”

He steps back, and Rhett glares because to the casual observer, Link doesn’t have a hair out of place, nothing suspicious unless somebody took a good long look at the front of his trousers, or noted the extra sparkle in his eyes. No one would ever know what had just transpired between them, looking at Link.

Whereas...

Rhett sighs, fishes out the damp pocket square from where he’d stashed it hastily in his pants pocket, and begins trying to wipe off the new sweat that’s accumulated since they walked backstage.

“By the way,” Link says, tossing a grin over his shoulder as he turns to go out into the auditorium and find Stevie, “you owe me a pocket square, jerk.”

Rhett sighs again. It’s gonna be a real long night.


End file.
